Written for the MFUWSS June challenge.
Title: When in June
Genre: Man from UNCLE
Rating: G
The Prompt: A June afternoon, a saloon, a full moon
My thanks to
akane42me for the prompts and to Sparky for her beta!
Napoleon poked at the typewriter keys with more energy than he felt and even thus, the key barely moved. He felt totally drained, exhausted beyond words, and, frankly, ready to drop in his tracks.
If he’d just come back from an assignment or was recovering from an injury, this listlessness would have made sense. Instead, it was following a week of business as usual, whatever usual was for an UNCLE agent.
His partner looked over the top of his glasses at him. “What’s wrong, Napoleon?”
“Nothing… everything.” His finger found another key. He’d managed a whole sentence.
“Well, you certainly are giving the women in the typing pool a run for their money.”
Napoleon’s head bobbed and then the words crawled through the haze to his brain. “What?”
Illya leaned back and stretched. “Would you like some coffee?”
Napoleon’s stomach churned at the thought of it. “No, thanks.”
“What would you like, then?”
“It’s just, it’s a beautiful June afternoon. The temperature is perfect, the weather couldn’t be better and here I am, stuck in the office.”
“So, don’t be.” Illya grinned mischievously at him. “You’re the boss, take the afternoon off. That paperwork will wait.”
“But what if Mr. Waverly comes looking for me?”
“You are but a communicator call away. I’m serious, Napoleon, you’re no good to anyone here like that. Get outside, breathe some fresh air and just relax a bit.”
“Well, maybe for just a few minutes.”
Napoleon’s few minutes stretched into an hour and then two. He sat on the bench and watched clouds drift by. He kept his attention carefully guarded, acting as if he was admiring the passing women. They smiled back as they hurried on their way.
“I thought I’d find you sitting here.” He was surprised by Illya’s voice, but if anyone could sneak up on him, it would be the Russian. He didn’t even make a ping on Napoleon’s radar anymore.
“It looked lonely, so I thought I’d oblige. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so long.”
“No matter, there was nothing so exceptional that your services were required. Miss Yallow even managed to change her typewriter ribbon all by herself this afternoon.” Illya sat down and loosened his tie, tipping his head back to catch the sun. “It’s good to be done for the day.”
“Done? It is that late?” Napoleon glanced at his watch and then shook his wrist when he realized it was dead. “I just bought this thing, too.” He hadn’t even noticed the shadows lengthening.
“Watches, like field agents, seem to have a short life expectancy.”
Napoleon chuckled in return. “This was a good idea, Illya. Thank you.”
“You seemed adrift this afternoon and that is never a good thing in our world.”
“Back home, Mom would have called it wool gathering. She would suggest I take the afternoon to go fishing. She never gave me any grief for coming back empty handed from those afternoons, either. She was just like you, she knew I just needed to be outside.”
“For me, it was collecting berries. We had huge berry bushes not far from the house, but deep enough into the woods that you were afforded a little privacy. With my brothers and sisters, any time alone was a gift. Unlike you, though, I would have to bring back some berries or have a good excuse why I didn’t.”
“Moms just know, don’t they?” Napoleon tilted his head back and smiled up at the last few rays of the sun.
“They do.” Illya did the same. For a long time, they just sat there, paying homage to the setting sun.
“You know, if this was a western, I could suggest we head over to the saloon and belly up to the bar for a few cool ones.” Perspiration dotted Napoleon’s forehead, but he couldn’t take his jacket off and reveal his side arm.
“Or we could go to the bar and order something from the saloon.” Illya shook his head. “English is such an arbitrary language. I feel badly for anyone who has to learn it.”
“You did.”
“The things we do for love.”
“Love?”
“Love of country, love of peace, love of freedom. I do what I do so that hopefully one day everyone will have a choice as to which language they learn.”
“Mr. Kuryakin, you are a gentleman and a philosopher.”
“Don’t spread it around. I prefer enigma.” Illya stood and offered Napoleon a hand. “And I believe you owe me a drink.”
“And something to eat.”
“It wouldn’t be a date without it.”
“A date?”
“A saloon in June under a full moon. I’d call that a date.”
“A date it is, although if we go dancing afterwards, I’m leading.”
“I’ll lead.”
“No, I will…”
Slowly and quietly, night settled upon the bench, no longer lonely for companionship. Now, like the man who’d just left, it was happy for its old friend and content to be together once again.
Genre: Man from UNCLE
Rating: G
The Prompt: A June afternoon, a saloon, a full moon
My thanks to
akane42me for the prompts and to Sparky for her beta!Napoleon poked at the typewriter keys with more energy than he felt and even thus, the key barely moved. He felt totally drained, exhausted beyond words, and, frankly, ready to drop in his tracks.
If he’d just come back from an assignment or was recovering from an injury, this listlessness would have made sense. Instead, it was following a week of business as usual, whatever usual was for an UNCLE agent.
His partner looked over the top of his glasses at him. “What’s wrong, Napoleon?”
“Nothing… everything.” His finger found another key. He’d managed a whole sentence.
“Well, you certainly are giving the women in the typing pool a run for their money.”
Napoleon’s head bobbed and then the words crawled through the haze to his brain. “What?”
Illya leaned back and stretched. “Would you like some coffee?”
Napoleon’s stomach churned at the thought of it. “No, thanks.”
“What would you like, then?”
“It’s just, it’s a beautiful June afternoon. The temperature is perfect, the weather couldn’t be better and here I am, stuck in the office.”
“So, don’t be.” Illya grinned mischievously at him. “You’re the boss, take the afternoon off. That paperwork will wait.”
“But what if Mr. Waverly comes looking for me?”
“You are but a communicator call away. I’m serious, Napoleon, you’re no good to anyone here like that. Get outside, breathe some fresh air and just relax a bit.”
“Well, maybe for just a few minutes.”
Napoleon’s few minutes stretched into an hour and then two. He sat on the bench and watched clouds drift by. He kept his attention carefully guarded, acting as if he was admiring the passing women. They smiled back as they hurried on their way.
“I thought I’d find you sitting here.” He was surprised by Illya’s voice, but if anyone could sneak up on him, it would be the Russian. He didn’t even make a ping on Napoleon’s radar anymore.
“It looked lonely, so I thought I’d oblige. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so long.”
“No matter, there was nothing so exceptional that your services were required. Miss Yallow even managed to change her typewriter ribbon all by herself this afternoon.” Illya sat down and loosened his tie, tipping his head back to catch the sun. “It’s good to be done for the day.”
“Done? It is that late?” Napoleon glanced at his watch and then shook his wrist when he realized it was dead. “I just bought this thing, too.” He hadn’t even noticed the shadows lengthening.
“Watches, like field agents, seem to have a short life expectancy.”
Napoleon chuckled in return. “This was a good idea, Illya. Thank you.”
“You seemed adrift this afternoon and that is never a good thing in our world.”
“Back home, Mom would have called it wool gathering. She would suggest I take the afternoon to go fishing. She never gave me any grief for coming back empty handed from those afternoons, either. She was just like you, she knew I just needed to be outside.”
“For me, it was collecting berries. We had huge berry bushes not far from the house, but deep enough into the woods that you were afforded a little privacy. With my brothers and sisters, any time alone was a gift. Unlike you, though, I would have to bring back some berries or have a good excuse why I didn’t.”
“Moms just know, don’t they?” Napoleon tilted his head back and smiled up at the last few rays of the sun.
“They do.” Illya did the same. For a long time, they just sat there, paying homage to the setting sun.
“You know, if this was a western, I could suggest we head over to the saloon and belly up to the bar for a few cool ones.” Perspiration dotted Napoleon’s forehead, but he couldn’t take his jacket off and reveal his side arm.
“Or we could go to the bar and order something from the saloon.” Illya shook his head. “English is such an arbitrary language. I feel badly for anyone who has to learn it.”
“You did.”
“The things we do for love.”
“Love?”
“Love of country, love of peace, love of freedom. I do what I do so that hopefully one day everyone will have a choice as to which language they learn.”
“Mr. Kuryakin, you are a gentleman and a philosopher.”
“Don’t spread it around. I prefer enigma.” Illya stood and offered Napoleon a hand. “And I believe you owe me a drink.”
“And something to eat.”
“It wouldn’t be a date without it.”
“A date?”
“A saloon in June under a full moon. I’d call that a date.”
“A date it is, although if we go dancing afterwards, I’m leading.”
“I’ll lead.”
“No, I will…”
Slowly and quietly, night settled upon the bench, no longer lonely for companionship. Now, like the man who’d just left, it was happy for its old friend and content to be together once again.